On Lenneth's Wings
by Amanthya
Summary: The burden of Lezard rests on Lenneth's wings; Rufus still dreams of Alicia. Can all be set right?


**Prologue**

He first opened his eyes as dawn began to peek around the heavy maroon curtans' borders, and saw Alicia sleeping beside him. The still-fuzzy part of his brain thought, 'Oh, that's nice.' The rest of it said, 'What the Hel?!'

He jerked upright, jarring his neck in his sprawled supine position and fell flailing over the edge of the bed. "Umph!" He groaned as he overstuffed blanket slid over the matching red silk sheets and dropped in a graceful puddle over his head. He pushed it off and clawed at his bangs--freed from their usual restriction in favor of a looser, lordly style--to clear his eyes. Finally, panting slightly, he rose to his knees to peer cautiusly over the side of the bed.

The girl lay on her side, unmoved throughout the racket, her back to him. The candle on the bedside table beyond her had worn down over the night and all he could really see in the early-morning dimness was pale hair and a white nightgown in some shimmering god-material. He'd developed a habit of an internal monologue as he lacked any actual friends in Valhalla, so he knelt there arguing with himself about her.

'It's not her,' he thought reasonably, 'Alicia's dead. It's probably one of those minor goddesses trying to start something and become queen. I've been tripping over them everywhere for months now.' Yeah, that was likely...

'But none of them have her hair.' Well, no, none of the divine beings had Alicia's particular shade of color-absorbing white-blonde, but--

'It's a trick!' His fingers clenching the mattress twitched. He'd never been the cocky type, but his new-found godhood had the opposite of the desired effect; he was now more nervous than ever, living in close proximity to the most icily powerful goddess in Asgard. What would she have to say about this?

'Wait...' What if she'd set this up? Freya wan't caring by any stretch of the definition, but she'd surely noticed his ineffectual and depressed leadership, and perhaps she'd figured this was the easiest way to get him to care about his reputation. Hey, if that pretender-mage could master the gods' spells, how much more could an actual god do?

He was still pondering this when the impossible vision stirred, rolled over and sat up stretching her arms towards the high-domed golden ceiling. Familiar pale blue eyes blinked above soft-looking lips that turned down a bit at the corners in a natural pout that usually made her look solemn. But now they were curving up in a smile as she looked around and saw him. She leaned over, the modest neckline of her shift not quite making up for the tight fit of the bodice. "Good morning."

'She speaks!' Alarmed, he jerked backwads and scrambled to his feet in time for his hip to hit the corner of the desk. He was knocked off balance and back down he went, eyes riveted on her all the while. "You're dead!" Wasn't she?! Had he finally gone mad and was hallucinating? Was the room tilting a little? Was he beginning to hypervenilate? Yes, yes he was. At least one question he could answer decisively.

He might have laughed to watch himself. He'd died, been materialized, visited another world and become a god. But her mere presence mad him question his sanity.

Her eyes were wide, following him. "Are...you okay?" She climbed over the bed and swung her legs over it, wincing as her bare feet hit the cold white marble--he'd fallen asleep fully clothed and booted again and hadn't thought much of it. Nonetheless, she padded over to him and got on one knee. "Did you have that dream again?" She raised one cool hand to his cheek, saying, "It's okay, I'm here," as soothingly as a mother might to her child.

His heart thudded in his chest as he eyed her with confusion. Could dreams touch? "You died. You died as Valkyrie."

Alicia shook her head, bangs swaying. "No. Brahms became the vessel. He was the only one strong enough, even wounded, to maintain an early form that could bind three heavenly spirits long enough to defeat Lezard." Her lips twitched in momentary regret, but she shifted and fit herself against his side. "It was sort of scary. An angel-demon fiercer than Lezard. But," her tone brightened, "We found Hrist. She's...nicer, now. And we'll find Silmeria. And we're together," she finished softly.

"A dream?" he queried, eyes still watching her with doubt. What a gift of fate she was, if she was really here. She seemed to live in sharp definition against a nebulous, luminous world of luxury he was still getting used to, still wasn't comfortable in. It was a world worth enduring though, for her sake. She felt reassuringly solid against him. "It seemed so real."

"Nightmares do," she agreed. "But this is real. And this," she reached a hand up behind his head, tilting it down to reach his lips with her own. "You've been working so hard," she murmured against his mouth between soft kissed. "Let's just relax now."

Surely one couldn't have such vivid experiences in mere dreams! He gave himself over to it, relief blooming in his chest to dull and cure the constant ache, like that of an arrowhead in his heart. It felt as though he tasted Alicia's kisses for the first time, since in his stunned state he couldn't recall the time during which their relationship had obviously progressed well.

"Rufus."

He made a sound in his throat, acknowledging her and aiming to kiss her again, eyes closed in order to fully concentrate on her skin. But her tone went insistent, asking for his full attention. "Rufus!"

He opened his eyes.

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Freya hoved over him cross-legged, careless of flashing her bodysuit under the edgings she called a skirt at him. He was flat on his back looking up at her.

Her brows were flattened down, lips twisted in a half-frown, half cynical-superior smile. She could put a lot of emotion in one glance. "You're needed," she began somewhat sarcastically, "to make an appearance. Get ready."

The last threads of the dream faded. He no longer tried to hold on to them, the sweetest and cruelest part of his world. Instead he got out of bed without a word, in the gilt chamber he assumed Freya had once shared with Odin, judging from the occassional feminine touches. The fertility goddess's gaze swept the room and her expression soured with obvious remembrance, as it often did. He ignored her and for the first time in his reign, refreshed his clothes with magic. It caught her attention and her tone went cautious.

"The throne room."

"See you there." Deep green ether swirled around him from his feet upwards and he was gone.

Freya stood by his side through the Assembly of the gods. He'd long ago given up fidgeting trying to find a comfortable position on the hard golden throne because there wasn't one. He didn't even bother to pretend to pay attention. The gods knew Freya--a great believer in order--was ruler in all but name, and only her strict adherence to the laws of succession kept her from killing him.

She yelled and scorned, meting out punishment as needed and generally kept everone in line for him, since they'd also learned long ago he was a push-over. Nobody spoke directly to him for all that formal addresses began by acknowledging him. Protest and pleadings went to Lady Freya, who'd retained her title despite it all. All other gods went only by name, the Valkyries, of whom only this timeline's Lenneth could be located, being the only exceptions.

All this drifted through his head as mind-games and assassination plots were revealed and the divine beings stabbed each other in the back. Boredom bred discontent and he no longer let them run wild in Midgard. At least he didn't have to wonder how much longer they would put up with him without trying to get rid of their unwilling soverign. He'd stayed merely out of loyalty to Alicia's memory--and even that was wearing thin now, with no allies and no idea how to improve life in either Midgard or Asgard.

Alicia's reincarnation wavered in his mind's eye, eight at the first sighting, her age now unknown in this timeless place. She had proved to be much the same in nature, timid and gentle, her only companion a young boy studying magic. Her parents were again taken from her early in life, through the tragedy of a plague. He'd since denied himself her image in the water-mirror for fear he'd lose his mind and go down to her, messing up her new life, but his obsession with a dead mortal girl ws already well-known. He'd heard the whispers behind hi sback, for gods forgot that those of Elven blood had better hearing. But lesser hearing and all they still knew he woke up screaming her name more often that not.

A supernatural sense, amplified by his train of thought, made him look up directly into the always-mocking eyes of Loki, who for some reason always looked like he knew all the secrets, all the thoughts of everyone. 'As if he could understand what it's like to be me,' Rufus thought contemptuously as the trickster gods smiled from his spot toward the back of the crowd and reached into the inside pocket of his formal blood-red robe. He pulled out something small that twinkled in the light.

Rufus tilted his head a bit to see better, unnoticed by the others as Freya ether-slammed them around, their voices raised to a deafening din of screaming and cheering as victim-and crowd-member switched places again and again. There was little hesitation to rat each other out, shouting their encouragement for Freya as soon as she turned on someone else, the relief that they were out of the spotlight of her attention vivid in their eyes. It was the most dramatic Assebly in years, though the last few had surely been builing up to this.

In the midst of it Loki open his palm, reaching with his other hand to hold a cystal by its sharp-looking upper and lower tips. Inside the sparkling gem was another smaller one, glowing deep purple. A rare dream modifier, his mind supplied helpfully, then caught up with the reality it implied.

Shock and rage coursed through him, and abrupt adrenaline jolt that knotted his stomache. Plots he'd expected--and death he welcomed. But this! Every night was worse than the last, to lose her every morning!

Anger like he'd never known sent sparks of ether dancing around his clenching fists. Loki merely smiled knowingly at him and tucked the gem away again and crossed his arms in front of his chest, unworried about his reaction. In fact he seemed amused.

'Mock me, will you? No more.' He shot up out o the throne and strode through the crowd. It quieted as they realized who was moving amond them besides Freya's current prey. He summoned Gungnir with ease now; he'd had nothing to do but practice his skills with it. It amplified his own power more than they knew.

"You." He stopped before Loki, who met his gaze with an innocent expressin only slightly marred by his raised brow.

"M'lord?"

He raise Gungnir slightly. "You are the reason for my nightmares. You've messed with my head for years now! Enough," he said harshly. Freya hovered closer, uncharacteristically silent, eyeing their display.

"I do not know what you mean," he replied evenly. The other gods watched with fascinated confusion, anticipation heating the air. It emmanated from them, the emotions pressing on his mind as easily as their auras lit before his eyes.

"I'm not interested in proof," Rufus warned him in a low growling tone they'd never heard him use before. It no doubt crushed Loki's hopes of an entertaining game--it had to have been torture _be_ torturing someone who didn't even have the decency to know they were being messed with. Let alone to stumble about in panic looking for the source. He made the first decision of his reign that was truly his own. "I'm done with you."

Loki's eyes widened slightly even as a placating smile passed across his lips in time to the lighting of Gungnir's tip. Rufus smiled grimly, and caught the god by surprise with his first and finishing blow. The explosive release of power sent ripples through the air, making Freya sway like a bird on the surface of the water, moving with the tide. The rising light illuminated the scattering forms of surprised gods, bounding away in the nick of time--all but one.

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He leaned against the high rail on the balcony overlooking the grassy expanse of ever-blooming white flowers. Above, dove-like birds danced about each other on the breeze. They were an uncommon privelege to behold, for they bred infrequently and produced few young, but he found no comfort in the beauty of the scene. He glanced aside at the sound of footsteps, wondering at them because everyone but Freya was avoiding him lately. And she'd given him an informal day off with an expression of extreme satisfaction.

"Lord Rufus," a familiar voice said with pleasant formality. He turned.

"Lenneth Valkyrie." He narrowed his eyes at her faint smile. Lenneth the Younger, as he'd taken to calling her in his head, had awoken to find her world-order twice re-arranged, and understandably had always regarded him with cautious reservation. She spent much time in sleep as he had yet to call her back to active duty, but Freya must have done so in continual preparation for Ragnarok. She'd surely mention it to him later.

She took his words as invitation and joined him on the balcony, but did not as much as peek downwards. "I must speak with you."

He looked back down at the field. "Freya wants you to begin gathering souls again."

"Surely so, but that is not why I have come. I must make amends." He made a face at the odd statement. "I had to wait until my younger self was back asleep before I could approach you. This world does not allow for one of its beings to exist in duplication." She paused and waited for this to register. Surprise crossed his face.

"Lenneth?" He reached out with an audacity he'd never have dreamed of having before and cupped her chin, studying her face. It was her eyes that convinced him; they were too wise and calm, too understanding. "The Lenneth...from the other time?"

"I am Lenneth the Creator," she confirmed, reaching up tp gently remove his hand. She blinked at him from under her thick bangs, the silvery color perfectly complimenting her blue armor as always. She moved comfortably in it. It was part of who she was, and unlike him in his regal robes of office and the gold band circling his head to show his station, actually seemed to like her daily wear and the life that went with it.

"My soul returned to its own time, but since I had already been to this world I was allowed re-entrance, though our timelines are no longer directly connected. I have come to right the wrongs I permitted to happen because of my failure to act," she said with a tone that, while remorseful, still managed to suggest complete control over the situation. She all but said, "I will right the wrongs, whether you like it or not."

He drew back, astonished and painfully glad to see a friendly face, though they had by no means been close in their brief accquaintance before. "What can you do?"

"I did not destroy the time machine," she answered quietly. He looked down, cursing that blasted thing in his head. "I created the opportunity for Lezard to do all that he did. I have used it once more to return to your world and set all right."

"This stupid time machine's only mucking up the mess we already have," he said dismissively, shaking his head and pacing away in a circle that lead him back to her. "How is twisting up the time machine more going to help?"

She was ready for his question and responded quickly. "I will return to the time when you and Alicia confronted Odin, and Lezard betrayed you. I did not have acces to my full powers on my first arrival," she frowned slightly, "forgetting that in this world I am not Creator. I cannot call upon all of Asgard and Midgard to aid me; they do not belong to me."

"Then what exactly makes you think you'll succeed this time?" He didn't bother to hide the cynicism but it didn't faze her.

"Give me Gungnir," she began, stepping toward him.

He stepped back, holding out a hand. "I don't think so." The gods would dive at him claws-first the second he was unprotected in order to repay him for Freya's punishments, not counting whatever Lenneth herself would do in her zeal to correct the situation for everone's own good.

"Lezard will not hurt me." That hadn't been his worry, though it was a good point to bring up. "And with Gungnir I can beat him."

"Yeah, except for the part where he absorbed Odin's soul!" He threw up his hands at her. "That's got to make him equal to you, Lenneth Creator. And doesn't he have Gungnir too?"

She shook her head, almost excitedly. She clearly retained an energy, a will to see her plan through, and it was beginning to show. "Lord Rufus. Have you ever considered why the treasures were hidden? Why Gungnir usually resides in another plane of existence?" She answered his blank expression. "So that others cannot do with them as we plan to. They do not move through time as people or gods do. They are and always are. You cannot reach into the past and have two of them. If you give me Gungnir," she exlplained urgently, "and I return, when I arrive Gungnir will answer to my summons alone because it is already mine. It is fated to and so does, and in a way already has--at that time--become rightfully mine. It will be enough."

"Eh?" His brow wrinkled. She forged on ahead, hands twitching as if she wanted to reach out and physically shove understanding into his head.

"Lezard will not be able to use it. I will destroy him, and his soul will return to its place. I will see that it is devoid of magical abilities," she added as almost an afterthought. "As surely as he intended to do to the others. Silmeria's soul will be returned to the cycle of rebirth, and Hrist will no doubt fall in line--I sensed the doubts in her soul. Then I will return your weapon to you, counsel you on destroying Lezard's barrier and becoming a god. Then we will both go to our proper places and destroy the time machines." She nodded decisively at him.

He realized his mouth was hanging open.

She stepped closer to him once more, and he didn't think to move away. The intensity of her conviction was more frightening that Freya's anger, and at once he could see why kings on Midgard feared religion-driven revolt more than any other war.

"You may or may not choose to speak of this to my younger self. It does not much matter. All will be set right." She held out her hand to him.

He looked down at it, uncertainty and regret mixing in his chest to tug at his heart. 'It's not like it can get any worse here.' He summoned his mighty weapon, and after a moment's hesitation, handed it over.

She closed her fingers around it and nodded with a final promise. "I'll guide you to a true victory. Then perhaps there will be something in this world worth saving from Ragnarok."

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_A/N: I wrote several versions of this, and I might revise it later because I'm still not satisfied, but I wanted to finally post it anyway. I don't honestly know much about Lenneth or Loki, and I've never played the first game. And my logic's a little spotty regarding the treasures, but just let that pass and enjoy the story. It's my grand attempt to re-write the ending of the game with the help of that magical plot device--the time machine. It's also a little rushed and as you can see Rufus degenerated personality-wise, as Odin did, when left to his own devices in the supposed heaven-realm. Forgive this, it is necessary to the plot. There has to be a reason why he hates his life so much he's willing to even break his promise not to mess with Alicia's. Please let me know what you think. : )_


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